When people notice my gorgeous wife, they often ask me how we first met. We tell them one of several stories, none of which are true.
The true story happened when I was teaching English in Ginza Tokyo, at a very upper crust private school. I was invited to a weekend party. As a faculty member it was too risky to accept party invitations from the students, which I deflected often. But one from a fellow faculty member was something I lept at.
The party was in full swing when I arrived. After quite a few sizzling dances, I needed a moment to regroup. Across the room, a choice spot freed up on the busy couch by the window. Seizing the opportunity, I sat down at the end, next to an attractive couple. It was too noisy to attempt very deep conversation, and anyway there was far too much eye candy to take in as I discreetly peered out over the top of my drink.
My eyes kept getting caught by this stunning woman across the room. She was dressed to kill. Her shiny, electric blue, skin tight bodysuit seemed painted on. Her zeppelin tits were straight out of a porn cartoon. They completed the room. She was slaying me, just standing there.
I stared too long.
"Sekkushu Ningyo", the guy seated next to me said.
In the din of the party, I figured I hadn't heard him clearly, and after a reasonable try at deciphering it, I gave in; "what?"
"Sekkushu Ningyo, she's dressed as a japanese anime hero."
He should have said heroine, but I held my tongue. He made a gesture with his fingers that broke her out of her concentration across the room. She bowed, put aside her drink, and walked over.
It was a glorious walk. I saw it in slow motion, her heavy breasts bouncing slightly with the roll of her feminine hips, her long slender legs in motion below her. My eyes were drawn to her luscious crotch where, no doubt, she kept a sweet little oasis. She parted the crowd as she moved, it required no effort on her part, merely her presence and radiant fuckability.
Standing before us in salute, she bowed deeply, in honor, but also in presentation of her chest, which begged to be manhandled -- girl handled even. I gulped my drink to stop myself from reaching for them.
In the dim light I could see her better now that she was close. Holy shit, it was painted on.
The guy next to me made a swirling gesture, and she began to turn. When she was fully facing away from us, she bent over, grabbing an ankle in each hand. She had the flexibility of a gymnast, and we were treated to a full view of her splayed pussy. In contrast with the dark blue of her body paint, it stood out bright and proud. She had painted the outer edges of her labia in neon orange.